


with dirge in marriage

by iwritetrash



Series: all that lives must die [6]
Category: Victoria (TV)
Genre: Angst, Depressing af, F/M, M/M, Many liberties with Maria's character, Maria is actually Angelica Schuyler in disguise, Maria is an awesome big sister, Maria's POV, Marriage of Convenience, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Sexism, Self-Sacrifice, Unrequited Love, nobody is happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 17:38:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13439841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwritetrash/pseuds/iwritetrash
Summary: with mirth in funeral and with dirge in marriage





	with dirge in marriage

**Author's Note:**

> maria's pov, as requested by rainbowflavouredfabulous 
> 
> this is depressing as fuck bc i was listening to satisfied and i decided that that was going to be the vibe of this fic, bc maria is actually angelica schuyler and now she's really sad and i'm sad so yeah you've been warned, this is really sad...
> 
> enjoy!

Maria remembers her mother. She knows that her sister, Cecelia, does not, and why should she when their mother left so soon after her birth, but she thinks it is rather a shame for her sister not to have a mother figure present in her life.

That is the role Maria decides to assume, when she is 11 years of age and watches her little sister cry in her nursery, while a nurse desperately tries to soothe her. She will be both sister and mother to Cecelia, to guide and protect her for as long as she is able.

~

There is no denying that Maria is really quite pretty. She has been told by many a fine gentleman, and of course she is not one to feign modesty; she can recognise her own attractiveness when she looks in the mirror, though she does try not be vain. It certainly helps to make balls all the more enjoyable, since there is no shortage of men who wish to dance with her.

They all rather dull, however, and she finds it is a wonder any of the other girls can even tolerate to dance with them more than once. All they seem to want to talk about is politics, and the war, and Maria hears enough of that from her father. She thinks she would rather like to engage in some real conversation, about art, or music perhaps. Alas, there is yet to come a man who will dazzle her with his charm and wit and surprising knowledge of contemporary literature.

For now, Maria enjoys the dancing until all the champagne has been drunk and the candles extinguished, at which point she returns home where Cecelia is eagerly awaiting her stories from the night. Perhaps she embellishes a little, if only so her little sister is entertained.

How her father would frown to see her sprawled out on Cecelia’s bed, still in her fine gown and jewels, no doubt crumpling the silk. He would call her foolish as she spun stories of foreign princes, and waltzes with handsome men, and the beauty of the candlelight in the glittering ballroom until her sister fell asleep.

Maria knows her father thinks she is being frivolous, attending so many balls and yet never courting a single gentleman from any of them. She laughs, and tells him it will come in good time. She doesn’t dare admit that a part of her is holding back, just for the moment, so that she may see Cecelia grow, and lead her along the path of womanhood herself.

~

Cecelia grows to be a charming, if a little wild, young woman, with a stubborn will and her nose permanently stuck in a book. Father tells Maria she ought to be encouraging Cecelia to take more interest in the other arts, like music, and yet it is quite impossible to sway her little sister to any other pastime.

She will do little else but read, though she can sometimes be bent to study languages, when it so pleases her. It is a start on the path to womanhood, Maria muses, ignoring the ever-ticking clock in the back of her mind.

~

Maria meets Lord Alfred when she is 20 years old, and, like most other ladies who have met him, she is smitten immediately. It is not something she truly realises is happening; she is simply dancing with him, and making polite conversation about a novel she is currently reading, and the music they are dancing to, and they she goes home to tell her sister about the wonderful man she met that night, and Cecelia teases her quite ruthlessly for having fallen in love with him.

She refuses to tell her sister Alfred’s name, for fear it might make her teasing all the more ruthless, but she does describe at length the wonderful golden colour of his hair, and the way he spoke so elegantly, and how light on his feet he was as they danced.

When she next attends a ball, she finds herself searching for those piercing blue eyes in the crowd, her heart warming when they land on her.

~

Two years pass, and with no sign of a budding courtship, Maria is forced to resign herself to the fact that Alfred simply is not interested. She is no longer foolish enough to entertain the notion that he might be interested in her simply because he asks her to dance and plays cards with her and quotes poetry in their conversations; she sees now that he does much the same with other women, and he is not courting any of them either.

It is time to move on. She is almost 22 now, after all, and if she does not find a husband soon she runs the risk of not marrying at all.

Still, it is hard for her to simply set aside her feelings, which have only blossomed over the past two years. She spends every second of every ball watching Alfred, hoping he might come over and speak to her, engage her in conversation, save her from the tedious boredom in which she finds herself all too often these days.

Her friends are getting engaged one by one, the most recent being Florence, who has found a match in a Mr Drummond, who is rumoured to have good prospects as a politician. Unfortunately, Florence has been taken ill, and so cannot be at the ball, where Maria is now stood in a corner drinking her champagne and watching the dancing. She spots Alfred across the room and cannot bring herself to tear her eyes from him, despite knowing how ridiculous she is being.

Alfred is on the opposite side of the room, talking to a taller man with dark curls and a broad grin. He is quite handsome, she thinks, but her heart belongs to Alfred, as it has for far too long. Maria steels herself, before making her way around the edges of the room to Alfred. It is no use standing in a corner waiting for someone to come over to her, she tells herself. Maybe it’s just the champagne though.

When she gets there, Alfred smiles warmly at her, and introduces her to his friend, none other than Mr Drummond himself. She makes the connection between him and Florence’s fiancé, not missing the way Alfred’s demeanour shifts a little, as though reminded of something he’d rather not think about. Mr Drummond also seems to be doing his best to seem interested in a topic which he too would rather avoid, so she quickly moves on. It is peculiar indeed, but she tries not to dwell on it.

~

Mr Drummond does not attend balls very often, Maria notices. He is engaged, after all, and a very busy man, so it makes sense. When she does see him, however, he never seems to be far from Alfred’s side, smiling and talking like there’s nowhere else in the world he would rather be. Even when the two of them have partners, they dance side by side, exchanging grins over their shoulders.

Maria spends more time watching the other people in the ballroom than she does talking and dancing these days. As the years pass, and she grows older, she becomes less and less of a desirable partner, and men turn their attentions to the younger women who walk through the doors. No matter. She wonders if she could marry at all to someone who she did not love as she loved Alfred.

~

When Florence’s fiancé is shot, Maria makes plans to visit her immediately. She gets permission from her father and packs her bag, saying goodbye to Cecelia before travelling to Florence’s London residence, eager to comfort her friend. She can’t imagine what Florence must be feeling, having lost the man she hoped to marry only a month later. It is quite horrific to think about.

She arrives just in time for the funeral, a dreadfully sombre affair, and sees Alfred carrying Mr Drummond’s coffin, looking so grief-stricken that she aches to wrap him in her arms and reassure him that all will be well in time. Oddly enough, she isn’t quite sure it would help. He has the expression of a man whose life has been thrown into a state of permanent despair now that his friend is dead.

It reminds her of The Iliad, of Achilles mourning Patroclus, but she has heard the rumours about that text, and she wouldn’t dare suggest such things to Alfred. Even as they toss dirt onto Mr Drummond’s coffin, Alfred looks as though he would quite like to crawl into the grave beside him to be as close to him in death as it seems they were in life. Maria says nothing of it to him.

She reminds herself that she made this journey for Florence, and not for a man who does not love her, and turns her attentions to her dear friend, who is practically inconsolable. She has lost her fiancé, after all, and with him her hopes for a comfortable married life. Maria tactfully avoids all mention of such things, however, for to say such things would only hurt Florence more.

It is all quite dreadful, Maria thinks. So many broken hearts in one room, including her own. She wonders if any of them will ever find true happiness.

~

Cecelia comes of age the following year, and Maria takes her to her first ball. She is apprehensive, of course; Cecelia is young, and naïve, and Maria fears she may be all too easy to take advantage of, but her sister is so excited that she cannot bring herself to ruin her mood.

She introduces Cecelia to Alfred, who is still clad in black, Maria notices. Perhaps it is a coincidence. Cecelia is awestruck right away. Perhaps the Wyndham women are bound by fate to fall in love with Paget men, she muses. Alfred has several brothers who are still unmarried – more than several, in fact – yet none have caught her eye; perhaps it is just this one Paget in particular, then, who is so irresistible.

Alfred seems quite taken with Cecelia too, and Maria sees him smiling for the first time since the death of Mr Drummond as he dances with her sister. Perhaps he is only being polite, she tells herself, to amuse her sister as she asked him to. She mustn’t think of it too much.

~

Maria does her best to dissuade Cecelia from taking too much interest in Alfred too quickly. After all, he had never showed any interest in finding a wife before, which only added to the suspicions she dared not voice.

She doesn’t dare admit her feelings for Alfred, however, because she cannot bare to so blatantly steal such a precious moment from her sister. Maria realises a little too late that her sister has already fallen for him.

~ 

Alfred means well, Maria knows that, but she can see through his charms and wit, and she knows he has no intention of courting Cecelia. Maria, however, refuses to allow her sister to be led on by the first man she met at a ball, so she goes to Alfred without telling her, and confronts him.

She tells him of her sister’s affection for him, and that he must decide now whether he wishes to formally court her, or drop all pretences that such a thing might happen. Alfred appears quite taken aback by her declaration, before his lips twitch up into a small smile.

He admits that he has been reluctant to marry for reasons he would prefer not to disclose – Maria has her suspicions anyway – but he finds her sister quite charming. It would, of course, be better to wait, as she is so young, but he believes that perhaps, when she is a little older, he would quite like to court her.

It is not a declaration of love, but Maria supposes that is easier on her own heart. If Alfred had started waxing poetic about her sister she fears she might have burst into tears right then and there. Still, her sister must have a happy marriage, and a secure one, and certainly not one following in the footsteps of Alfred’s father. Alfred laughs when she tells him this, and assures her that will not be the case. Cecelia will be happy, he assures her, if such a match were to occur.

Content, if a little heartbroken, Maria returns home to find her sister dressing for the ball they are to attend that evening. Maria paints on a smile and goes to get changed. Cecelia will be happy, she tells herself, and that is what matters.

~

When Alfred begins courting her sister officially, Maria tells herself it is high time she moved on and found herself a husband. It would be embarrassing, surely, were she to be beaten to the altar by her sister ten years her junior.

She finds a man eventually, a baron no less, who is quite willing to marry her. His name is Godfrey, and he is ten years her senior, but he is kind, and charming, and he likes _her_. She suspects the property she is due to inherit is incentive enough, though she is still rather pretty, despite her age, and she finally enters into a courtship with him.

It doesn’t make listening to Cecelia talk about Alfred any easier, but at least she knows her future is secure, and that she will be safe and cared for with another man. Perhaps she may even learn to love him, or at least to care for him one day.

So she accepts his proposal, when it eventually comes, and she marries him, and she bears him children, and she mourns him when he dies because he had been a good friend to her over the years. She cares for her sister as she has always done, and guides her through times of turmoil, through a miscarriage, through the death of one of her children, and through Alfred’s death as well. She does exactly what she has always been told she must do: she plays the perfect daughter, the perfect mother, the perfect wife, the perfect sister, and yet she finds herself wondering what is left for her.

Her entire life has been devoted to making sure other people are happy; Alfred, Cecelia, Godfrey, her father, everyone she has ever known. She has never been selfish, and it has only brought her misery.

Eventually Maria realises that none of them were ever truly happy. Alfred had mourned Mr Drummond his entire life, Cecelia had been married to a man who hadn’t loved her, and Godfrey had been stuck in much the same situation with her. 

_What a mess_ , she thinks, _what a mess of broken hearts_.

Life is not like the fairytales her mother used to tell her, and perhaps that is why her mother left. Perhaps there are no happy endings, at least not for people like them, because society will not allow them. All they are permitted is something satisfactory, something which is _just good enough_. Never truly happy.

**Author's Note:**

> i took so many liberties with maria's character but i've done my best to keep it matched up with the dates i could find for her, and worked off that framework. im not sure whether or not i'm done with this story yet, or if i want to write some more, but if you have any suggestions then feel free to let me know and i'll have a look.
> 
> thank you so so so much for reading, let me know what you thought!


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